The Green Ball
by Ms Pimprenelle
Summary: Miss Bingley wants to make sure that the Netherfield ball—and her superior skills as a hostess—will be remembered by the inhabitants of Hertfordshire. Things will not quite happen as she had planned.


The characters are Jane Austens, but this plot is mine. I'm not certain she would have approved. :-)

* * *

Louisa Hurst sighed.

"Caroline, you have been reviewing everything in detail for the last five days, sent numerous servants back and forth to Meryton and London—in that dreadful weather—to fetch everything you felt you needed, and some more. The guests will arrive in one hour, and you still want to discuss your preparations for the ball? What more is there to discuss?"

Her younger sister humphed.

"Really, Louisa! Can you not see that, though it will also benefit the locals who would have been contented with far less, _this_ is my chance to impress Mr Darcy and convince him I _am_ fit to be mistress of Pemberley?"

"I hopes he likes green," was Mrs Hurst's only answer. Seeing that her sister was uncooperative, Miss Bingley turned her heels and went to see her housekeeper in order to be certain everything was perfect, from the artificial foliage to the blancmange that had been coloured thanks to a new pigment that had just begun to be sold. Its colour was lovely, and unlike many green colourings, it would not alter with time. It mattered not for a dessert, but the drapes she had ordered for the occasion and the dresses she had made would not fade.

After Mrs Nicholls assured her that the green candles she had ordered were all in place and would be lightened whenever she wished, Miss Bingley allowed herself to relax somewhat. She had suffered some headaches as the day of the Netherfield ball approached and hoped it would not mar her enjoyment of the evening.

It did not. Everything was lovely, and the guests congratulated her for her arrangements. Two things gave her displeasure, though: her brother and Miss Bennet appeared to be in a world of their own, and Mr Darcy had only danced with Elizabeth Bennet. But even these facts did not distress her much. The latter two had seemed angry at each other by the end of their dance, and Mr Darcy had since been observing Mr Bingley and Miss Bennet, occasionally frowning. She trusted that he would discourage any attachment between the two, especially since the rest of the Bennet family had seemed willing to demonstrate how improper they could be.

They had come with a cousin—the heir of the estate, she had understood—who had been excessively vocal in his praise of her décor. Apparently, his patroness's daughter favoured the colour green and had her rooms decorated in the same shade Miss Bingley had chosen. She even dyed her stockings in that colour! Looking down at her attire, the hostess of the ball sighed, lamenting the fact she had not thought about such a thing for herself.

It was soon time for supper, and the guests oohed and aahed at the sight of the dining room. By the time the green confections came on the table, Miss Bingley was secure in the knowledge that her ball would last long in the neighbourhood's memories.

Then something went wrong. At first she thought it was nothing. Miss Lydia Bennet had been loudly complaining about her throat and belly, but Miss Bingley believed it was only because the girl had over-indulged in the punch. It was, as the desserts, of a lovely green colour and, she had Cook add some rare Indian spice in it. Truly, it had been an extravagance, but she was proud of the result, even if it was to be wasted on the likes of Lydia Bennet, who had soon after begun to cast up her accounts. Miss Bingley had been disgusted and had decided she would speak to Charles as soon as she could, without waiting for Mr Darcy to do so.

She was looking for her brother and frowned on realising he was still oblivious to all but Miss Bennet. He had not even touched his plate, and his glass was still full. She felt a pang of guilt on seeing that Jane Bennet was in the same state, but truly, even if the lady loved her brother and was lovely herself, it would not do to entertain the notion of aligning themselves with such a family. Mr Darcy—and Miss Eliza, she noticed with a frown—were not in the dining room any more and their plates also seemed mostly untouched. They had been seated near Mrs Bennet, who was currently both gloating about her eldest daughter's conquest and enjoying the coloured blancmange. A more attentive look allowed Miss Bingley to determine that her missing guests were currently on the balcony. Miss Elizabeth seemed to be miserable—after her family's displays, she could well be—and Mr Darcy seemed to watch her from afar. Not very satisfying, but it could be worse.

And worse it became.

Miss Mary Bennet had just finished to make herself ridiculous at the pianoforte, with no little help of her father, when the whole room began to experience the same symptoms Miss Lydia had, and some more. Not one hour after supper ended, the ballroom was full of cries, whimpers, and pestilence. The musicians had fled, and some servant or other might have also run away to fetch the apothecary, for Mr Jones arrived soon afterwards, though it felt an eternity to all the guests, whether they were amongst those in pain of some of the few that had been spared. Not knowing whether something that had been served was responsible, or if some sick guest had contaminated the others, Mr Jones decreed the house would be quarantined until no new case of the malady arose. This, of course, was not welcomed by the handful of still healthy people, but they soon resigned themselves to their fate and, rather than fret and do nothing, volunteered to tend to the sick. By then, dawn came, the candles were consumed, and the ailing installed as well as they could be in various rooms of the great house.

To the relief of everybody who was not overwhelmed with suffering, no other person fell ill. Still, sadness soon overcame relief, for everyone had a friend or relative affected by the malady, and it soon became obvious that nothing could make them better. After one day, Mr Jones deemed the insulation superfluous, and help came from the surrounding houses, but the only thing that could be done was trying to make the sick's condition as comfortable as possible. Most of the guests, as well as some Netherfield servants, died the next day or shortly afterwards. Some lingered a few weeks before succumbing.

The survivors included the two eldest Miss Bennets, Mr Bingley, and his friend. As the latter two would neither stay at Netherfield nor leave the neighbourhood, it was decided that the gentlemen would stay at Longbourn, along with Mrs Long who had also been spared and, rather to return to an empty house, volunteered to act as a chaperone. They were soon joined by Mr Darcy's younger sister and her companion. That gentleman had first thought to go back to town, but thought that he could not leave his friend alone in his grief. The fact that it would allow him to stay near the second Miss Bennet, now free of all her embarrassing relatives, might have played in that decision.

Mr Bennet had died shortly before Mr Collins, and it was some time before the new owner of Longbourn could be identified, which allowed the party to stay there without difficulty. Once Mr Collins's heir took possession of the estate, the Bennet ladies moved to their Uncle and Aunt Gardiner in London, and the gentlemen, who had begun to court them as much as they could given the general state of mourning, followed. A double marriage took place before Christmas the year after the ball.

For a long time afterwards, though it was never proved that it had played a role in the tragedy, the colour green fell out of favour in the area of Meryton.

* * *

 **A couple notes:**

Arsenic compounds made very pretty greens that don't fade with time. Arsenic poisoning, on the other hand, is not pretty. And _very_ painful ...

Also, I realise that it's only said between the lines, but Miss Bingley did not survive.


End file.
